THE LAST APPRENTICE

...Before the time of cities, before Atlanta, when men roamed as primitive animals, Poseidon came down from Olympus for he loved the Earth-born woman named Cleito, daughter of Evenor and Leucippe. Poseidon sheltered and seduced Cleito until she bore for him five pair of male children. Of the eldest he named Atlas, who became king of Atlantis and was given the largest and most favorable lands. The other male children became princes, and by the wishes of Poseidon, each was given a provence over which they held sway...
...Poseidon was pleased and gave to his sons the art of civilization. Gone were times when men must scamper about the wilds, lest he wishes. The great gift of Poseidon brought letters and numbers and dwellings and goods and honor with multitudes. Poseidon bestowed his gift in this wise; he wrought the first of all cities with his own hand and bade his sons to look on. He told each of his sons to forge such a civilization in the lands over which they held sway, except for the eldest, Atlas, who would rule the city Atlanta, for only a king shall rule a city built by the hand of Poseidon...

The call of a cock announced daybreak and woke Odius from a comfortable night's sleep. Odius laid in bed long enough to savor those fleeting restful moments that come with the passing of slumber.
He always spent the first minutes of the day trying to recall dreams from the previous night. The Great Marce told him to heed his dreams; for they are the true substance of a man's thoughts. He recalled nothing other than a vague image of a unicorn, much like the beast he had seen on the slopes of Tritus several weeks earlier.
Odius vividly remembered that day and the majestic creature. It was a mare in her fifth or sixth summer. They were extremely friendly creatures and not the least bit dangerous, yet they were as untameable as winter storms. Unicorns had a habit of looking directly into a human's eyes, as if to look deep into the soul and see the true merit of the person within. This made many people uncomfortable because they feared the animal could see their darkest deed.
Odius took note of the vague image left by his dream, but made no effort to analyze it or link it with the mare on the slope of Tritus. He rubbed his eyes then stretched to push the sleep from his muscles. After a drawn-out yawn, he took a deep breath of fresh morning air.
Reluctantly, Odius slid a foot out from under the bedclothes and placed it on the warm stone floor. The warmth came from firestones which were laid down before the dwelling was built. Firestones were mined from a quarry beyond Mount Atlas. They were yellowish-orange in color and hot to the touch. They never seemed to cool down and were used as a source of heat for most dwellings across the continent of Atlantis. Firestones were a prized resource and never exported or traded with foreigners no matter how attractive the offer might be.
After a moment or two, Odius rolled back the bedclothes then sat up on the feather-stuffed mattress. He was a young man in his late twenties, fair skin, light hair, and blue eyes. What he lacked in build he made up for with intelligence. He was of average height and generally considered attractive by women of his time.
Although several women expressed interest in him, he had not settled down to a wife or even socialized with a woman on a consistent basis. His celibacy was by no means due to lack of interest in the fairer sex it was because of his position and fear of corruption.
For the last six years Odius has been an apprentice to the Great Marce. He was only an apprentice, but in the years ahead he himself would become the Great Marce, master of the crystal. Odius was to become one of the most powerful figures on the entire continent of Atlantis. Already he was known throughout the city as apprentice to the Great Marce, to the point where his position preceded him. It was often one of the first subjects new acquaintances would bring up.
Most women Odius met knew who he was and what he would eventually become. If they were not aware of his position they soon found out. When befriended by a pretty woman, he could never be sure whether she was interested in him as a man or as the Great Marce. He was afraid of being led on and snared as a prize. Such circumstances could only lead to misery, or worse, abuse of power. He wished he could have met a woman who was ignorant to his destiny. Then he would know for certain how she felt about him as a man. Perhaps this fear would pass with age, as for now he would not concern himself with a relationship and concentrate on his apprenticeship.
After sitting for a few seconds, he stood up then staggered across the floor toward the washroom. He briefly look around his modest dwelling as his eyes adjusted to the morning light.
His dwelling was small, hardly fifteen feet square, and cut from a solid block of stone. The white stone was very fine grain and quite similar to marble in texture and color. The stone was cut to a flat, smooth finish both inside and out, and all corners were perfectly perpendicular. The dwelling was divided into two rooms, the smaller of which was a washroom. It was four by six feet and located in a corner opposite the entrance. The larger room served for sleeping, working, and relaxing.
His dwelling was furnished with a small table, two chairs, shelves, and two trunks, all fashioned from various hardwoods. The shelves were stocked with assorted pottery, tinted goblets, and brass dinnerware. A rack for storing books in the form of scrolls hung on one of the walls and several clay oil lamps were set on small shelves near the ceiling.
Two plants in hanging pots grabbed the morning light from one of the three glass windows. The glass had a faint pink tint and crude texture which cast swirlish patterns across the stone floor. Each piece of glass could be removed by unfastening two brass catches on the sides of the frame. The door to the dwelling was made of tight grained mahogany and decorated on both sides with inlaid brass and orichalcum (1). The entire structure was immaculately clean both inside and out. It was typical of most Atlantean dwellings for one or two persons.
Inside the washroom, Odius squinted at a mirror of finely polished silver then ran his hands through his hair. A marble likeness of a rhinoceros head was mounted on the wall below the mirror. He pulled and tugged at the rhino's horn until the horn slid outward an inch or so. Water began to trickle from the rhino's mouth into a cistern. Odius cupped his hands under the fixture to capture a cold drink of water.
The cistern had a drain, which could be closed with a wooden stopper. When the stopper was pulled, or when the cistern overflowed, water trickled into an adjacent trough which served as a toilet. The trough was gradually tapered toward a large drain hole at the opposite end. A crude trap kept any smell from escaping out of the sump below.
After Odius turned off the water, he stepped into an Atlantean version of a shower. The entire ceiling of the shower was made of porus rock similar to volcanic pumice. This rock formed the bottom of a shallow tank, which was filled with firestones. When the shower was turned on, water came up from an aqueduct under the city and filled the tank where it was warmed by firestones. The warm water slowly seeped through the porus rock, then dripped in a gentle uniform pattern like summer rain.
Odius continued his morning routine. He was a creature of habit and preferred it that way. The next step in his routine was to plan the coming day at work while he showered. After that, it would be time for breakfast, then a walk to work along the canal. This was a typical day for Odius, it was nothing special or so he thought.

This particular day was indeed special for a young Greek named Marcus. This was to be his first visit to the world famous land of Atlantis. Marcus was about the same age as Odius but that was where all similarities ended. Marcus was not nearly as educated as Odius, noticeably shorter, and quite stocky. His stereotypical Greek features, olive complexion, dark curly hair, and hazel eyes would make him stand out as a foreigner in the fairer race of Atlanteans. Marcus was a galley dredge on his twentieth day at the handle of an oar.
He was new on that crew and low in seniority. He spent most of the voyage in the same aisle position where he found himself that morning. The aisle position was less desirable since its oars were longer and heavier than the oars at the porthole positions.
His muscles ached with each stroke of the oar. He was tired and hungry. His skin felt filthy and crawly after twenty days of pulling, lifting, pulling, lifting, over and over to the beat of the hammers and their dull, monotonous cadence. He was tired of listening to the ship creek, tired of smelling his shipmates, and tired of stroking that oar.
Marcus looked at Sampson, who sat next to him at the porthole position. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then thought better of it. Marcus gave a quick, nervous glance through the deck grate overhead. Satisfied that the overseer was not watching, he again turned his head toward Sampson.
"Can you see anything yet?"
Sampson glanced at the same grate, then briefly looked over the oarlock on the next forward stroke.
"Yes, Water and oars."
"Someone on the other side said they saw land."
Sampson did not seem to be interested. He had been a galley drudge for many years and stopped counting voyages long ago. For Sampson this was all routine. Marcus, on the other hand, was thrilled with the prospect of pulling into port.
This was the first voyage Marcus had seen. He was anxious to get out of the hold and see sunlight again. He was also anxious to see the great city of Atlanta. He had heard so many unbelievable stories about Atlanta he hoped at least half of them were true.
"What are you going to take back with you?" he asked Sampson.
"A belly full of wine and an eyeful of beautiful women."
"Quiet down there!" the overseer shouted from above.
The overseer watched the two men in the hold below; he had nothing better to do. He was standing where the sun shone and the air was fresh with morning mist. Any one of the seamen below would have given a month's pay just to stand up here for an hour, away from the stench and drudgery of the hold. Satisfied that the men would remain silent, he wandered back to Demesis, the merchant who chartered the vessel.
Demesis was a heavy set man in his early fifties. He was a delegate of the Greek government and had sole responsibility for their cargo. He was experienced both as a merchant and a diplomat. His official mission was to trade their government-owned cargo in Atlanta for gold and ivory which he would take back to the palace at Athens.
This particular mission was to be one of his easier tasks. The barter had already been arranged, the price was set, and he knew his Atlantean contact well. He would not have to dicker and quibble over a price or devise a ploy to gain any advantage. This was suppose to be a simple matter of unloading their goods then taking their payment of gold and ivory back to home port.
"Remarkable city," Demesis said while looking in the general direction of Atlanta.
"Aye," replied the overseer. "After many a voyage to these lands, she is still something to behold." They were speaking strictly from experience because Atlanta did not look all that impressive from the sea. A stone wall, which met the sea at its southern most point, completely surrounded Atlanta and hid every detail of the city. The only seaward entrance to the city was through a gate in the massive wall. The two 150-foot brass gates were usually open during peacetime and always closed during time of war. The impressive sights began beyond the gate, where a five and a half mile canal took ships to and from a circular harbor at the center of the city.
The harbor was actually a perfectly circular canal 1,800 feet in width and almost two and a half miles in diameter. This canal was known as the Outer Harbor and was open to private and foreign vessels. It had docking facilities to accommodate 800 ships. Two covered bridges crossed the Outer Harbor and allowed access to the island at the center. The bridges were 100 feet wide and high enough to clear masts of any seagoing vessel.
Since land was about 80 feet above sea level at the Outer Harbor, the sides of the harbor were 80 feet tall. The outermost side was tapered to a 6% grade and covered with warehouses, shops, and streets. The opposite side, near the island at the center, was sheer rock. Shipping traffic kept toward the inside wall, while docking facilities littered the outside grade.
The island at the center of the Outer Harbor was perimetered by a stone wall covered with brass. Beyond the brass wall was an 1,800-foot strip of land, then another circular canal 1,200 feet in width. This canal was known as the Middle Harbor and was reserved for military vessels. Two short access canals allowed ships to pass from the Outer Harbor to the Middle Harbor. These access canals could be secured by gates at the brass wall. There was also a bridge over each access canal as well as two bridges to access the island at the center.
The island at the center of the Middle Harbor was surrounded by a wall covered with tin. Beyond that wall was a 1,200-foot strip of land and another circular canal 600 feet wide. This canal was known as the Inner Harbor and was reserved for flagships and royal vessels.
The island at the center of the Inner Harbor was surrounded by a wall covered with orichalcum. This was the citadel where Atlanta's greatest treasures were kept. At the exact center of the citadel, a monument to Poseidon and Cleito stood behind a circular wall of solid gold. This wall had no opening the shrine inside was for the gods alone.
Poseidon's temple also stood in the citadel. It was a massive building 600 feet in length and 300 feet in width. The roof of the temple was covered by silver with the exception of four gold pinnacles, one at each corner. Inside the temple, orichalcum floors, walls, and pillars were topped by an ivory ceiling. In the center of the temple, a larger than life statue of Poseidon nearly touched the ceiling. The solid gold statue stood in a chariot pulled by six winged horses. There were other statues in Poseidon's temple including Nereids (2) on dolphins.
Two palaces were located in the citadel; one served the kingdom of Atlas, the other was used jointly by the ten kingdoms of Atlantis. The rest of the citadel was filled with assorted government buildings, the temple of the crystal, parks, gardens, and a bathhouse for royalty. There were also countless statues paying tribute to various gods and kings of past generations. These statues were fashioned from a wide variety of materials ranging from stone to precious metals.
The strip of land between the Inner Harbor and Middle Harbor had no official name but most people referred to it as the royal district. This name probably came about because that was the area where lesser members of royalty lived. High ranking royalty lived in the palace while those who were related but had no official capacity lived in the royal district. Likewise, government officials, such as the Great Marce, scholars, and philosophers lived in the royal district. The royal district also had quarters for visiting dignitaries as well as the typical gardens, parks, bathhouses, and statues honoring the gods.
The strip of land between the Middle Harbor and Outer Harbor was used for public exhibition and became known as the public district. This was the location of a stadium, an amphitheater, and a racetrack for both athletes and horses. The public district also had a large covered pavilion for public meetings as well as the usual; gardens, parks, and yes, more statues honoring the gods.
The larger part of the city, that area between the Outer Harbor and the stone wall at the sea, also had its share of parks, gardens, and statues. It seemed like a new statue was dedicated every week or so in Atlanta. The larger part of the city was filled with homes, shops, warehouses, and small manufacturing facilities for goods such as cloth, pottery, glass, or metal working. Although there was no fine dividing line, private residences were generally located in the outermost regions near the stone wall, while shops and manufacturing facilities were generally closer to the center. All of the warehouses were located along the edge of the Outer Harbor. One of these warehouses was owned by a merchant named Averon.
Averon specialized in foreign trade. His warehouse was always well-stocked with everything from oils and incense to rare works of art. If someone needed a rare item from exotic lands, Averon was the man to see. If he did not have it, he could certainly get it within several months.
Averon started that day's work long before sunrise. He had to move stores to make room for merchandise due in from Greece. Averon had already finished that chore and had sat down to his books. His attention was diverted from his work when a silver chariot raced up to the front of his warehouse.
The chariot was predominantly silver with a small amount of gold trim. It was pulled by two white horses covered with foam as if they had been pushed hard for many long miles. The chariot rattled and clanked as it wheeled to a sudden stop.
"Whoa... Whoa there!" the driver shouted as he pulled on the reins without mercy.
The exhausted horses stopped the heavy chariot, then one of them reared from the strain of its bit. The chariot slowly rolled forward and back to nervous hoofsteps as the driver jumped off. Averon stood up and watched as the man approach.
Averon assumed the man was a high ranking official because of his privileged armor. The warrior's armor consisted of a half helmet and small chest piece, both of highly polished silver. This armor was worn for show or diplomatic missions. During time of battle the warrior would have worn a full helmet and a much larger chest piece, both of which were made of a stronger tin alloy. Averon recognized the man's coat of arms; he was a warrior from the kingdom of Gades.
Gades was an adjacent kingdom on the east coast of Atlantis. It was the smallest of the ten kingdoms and was wedged between the northeast border of Atlas and the sea. Its short coastline was only five days voyage due west of the Pillars Of Hercules (3).
The man marched up to Averon as briskly as he drove his horses. He stopped, saluted with a closed fist at his shoulder, then boldly announced his business.
"I bear a message from the king of Gades for the merchant Averon!"
"I am he."
The warrior produced a piece of parchment, which was folded in thirds and closed with a wax seal. Averon examined the letter. The wax seal was imprinted with the king's official mark it was genuine. The king of Gades actually sent Averon a message by royal courier!
What does the king want of me, he thought, a mere merchant?
Suddenly, he smelled a profit and his face began to glow.
Averon broke the seal then began to read the letter while the warrior stood steadfast and firm. As Averon read, his expression changed to reflect his confusion. When he was done, he briefly turned the letter over to check for marks on the other side, then read it again. The warrior continued to wait.
Averon looked at the warrior in confusion. "The king has summoned me to Gades?"
"He has," the warrior replied.
"I can not... I have a shipment due in from Greece today."
"The king has instructed me to serve in your absence."
"I don't have to go," Averon retorted. "I am not one of his subjects. Only the king of Atlas can force my will."
"The decision is yours," the warrior replied.
"What does the king need of me?"
"I am not exactly sure... although, I believe it has something to do with Egyptian merchandise."
Averon was quite undecided the warrior could see that.
"The king seemed most anxious about this matter." The warrior tried to persuade Averon without getting pushy.
Averon already had a commitment today. But, the king of Gades could be a very profitable trading partner. This could be a big improvement to his already flourishing business. He thought more about the profit potential.
As for his commitment, the deal was already set up. Anyone could handle the transaction. He looked over the warrior and thought how he had conducted himself in a most professional manner. Surely he could be trusted to carry out the transaction with Greece.
"You say you will serve in my place?"
The warrior nodded.
"Very well, I will see your king in Gades." Averon smiled as he folded the letter. "Follow me, I'll show you what must be done."
Averon talked to the warrior as they walked toward a corner of the warehouse. The corner sheltered a table that he used as a desk and office. "You will be meeting with a merchant from Greece named Demesis. He will deliver oil, wine, linens, and Persian silks. You will pay him in gold and ivory."
Averon picked up a piece of parchment from the table and handed it to the warrior.
"This is the tally. Make sure he delivers these numbers on the tally take no more nor less."
Averon paused for a moment while the warrior examined the tally. "Pay him the numbers shown on the tally again, no more nor less."
When the warrior finished reading the tally, he set the parchment on the table, then looked at Averon.
"Where shall I stack his goods?"
"Follow me."
Averon escorted the warrior to an empty space near a small crate and several neat bundles of ivory. He motioned to the open space.
"Stack his goods here," then he pointed to the crate and ivory, "Pay him with this. Any questions?"
"Yes, what of other business?" he asked.
Averon thought for a moment before replying.
"Take an appointment for my return."
"As you wish... anything else?"
Averon shook his head.
"Be rest assured, I'll care for your shop. You should not keep the king waiting."
Averon nodded. "I'll get a horse at the livery and leave straight away. Any questions?"
The warrior shook his head. "Go and have a safe journey."
Averon nodded.
Averon left for the livery. His anticipation of large profits overpowered any concerns about leaving his shop with the warrior. By the time he reached the livery he convinced himself that he was doing the right thing and that the warrior was of honest character. After all, the warrior was an official courier of the king and the letter was quite authentic.
Averon left in such haste that he never bothered to ask the warrior's name. He signed for a horse at the livery and was outside the city gates within the hour. He rode hard as his mind's eye painted a greedy picture of treasures and wealth from the king of Gades.

Wealth was plentiful in Atlantis. It was a rich continent with many forms of treasures, most of which were just lying about for the taking. High quality gemstones were often found in the hills and canyons. Precious metals were abundant and remarkably pure. The forests were rich in exotic hardwoods and abundant with wildlife. Even the fertile land, which had two growing seasons each year, was considered a treasure because there was nothing like it anywhere else on Earth.
One particular treasure stood above this sea of wealth the Crystal. The crystal was a gift from Poseidon many centuries ago. Atlanteans considered it a gem, but Poseidon bestowed it as a tool to ensure his children would prosper. The crystal was a perfect sphere about the size of a man's head. It was absolutely flawless and perfectly clear like a mountain stream.
The crystal was much more than a gem; it was power. It was immeasurable power. Anyone who knew its secrets could conjure powers of nature to command storms, floods, or earthquakes. It could bring rains for the crops or push ores from the ground. A skilled master could use the crystal to build canals or hollow buildings out of solid rock. For centuries the crystal built the cities of Atlantis and destroyed armies of her foes. Atlantis became great because of this uniquely powerful treasure.
The secrets of the crystal were known by only one man. This was a safeguard since the crystal's capacity for good was matched by its capacity for evil. The power of the crystal could be devastating if abused. To reduce any risk of abuse, only one person was allowed to know its secrets and only one person allowed to exercise its power. That person was given the title of Great Marce.
There was an exception to this practice. Periodically, a time would come when two people had to know the crystal's secrets. This was necessary to pass the crystal's secrets from one generation to the next. When the Great Marce grew old, he would select an apprentice. The apprentice studied under the master, until the master died. At that time, the apprentice became the Great Marce and the only man to know the crystal's secrets.
The temple of the crystal was located in the citadel of Atlanta. The base of the temple was roughly pyramid shaped with extremely steep stairs on all four sides. The stairs led to a flat foundation where the temple of the crystal stood.
The crystal was kept in the crystal chamber, which was a room at the exact center of the temple. Inside the crystal chamber, a stone pedestal supported a solid gold casting. The casting was somewhat abstract and resembled two hands with forearms extending upward from a massive base. The forearms came together at the wrists where the palms and fingertips cradled Poseidon's gift.
The temple of the crystal had other rooms. One room was an archive where scrolls and ancient records were stored. Another room was dedicated to consultations with the Great Marce. Here, royalty and representatives would make their requests for services of the crystal.
There was also a study in the temple, which served more as an office than a study. The Great Marce had been in this room since early morning. He was reading a scroll written centuries ago by one of his predecessors.
The Great Marce was a very old man. His body had been growing feeble over recent years but deep inside he was still very wise. Some say he was only eighty, while others swear he was a hundred and twenty. No one knew his exact age, not even him. His name was also lost. For many decades he had been known only as the Great Marce.
The Great Marce was seated at a table where a scroll seemed to trap his interest. His thin hands stumbled as he advanced the weathered parchment. He had to squint from time to time as he studied the script. Reading had become difficult for him since his eyesight began to fade six years ago; that was when he decided to take on an apprentice.
"Odius," he called in a raspy, weathered voice. "Odius!"
He briefly looked out the doorway of the study. After recalling that his apprentice had not yet arrived for work, he returned his attention to the scroll.
He was a pleasant man, not the least bit rude or overbearing. He was extremely thin and stooped at the shoulders. The hair on his head was noticeably sparse but his narrow face was covered with a thick white beard and mustache. He lifted his eyes from the scroll when he heard someone enter the temple.
"Odius?"
"Yes Master, it is I." Footsteps followed the young man's reply. A moment or two later he was standing at the doorway of the study.
"Good morning Master, are you doing well today?"
The old man chuckled as he put much effort into standing up.
"Like any other," his reply was punctuated with a short cough.
"Come hither," he gestured with a subtle wave of his fingertips, "come".
The Great Marce extended an arm as Odius approached. He laid is hand on the young man's shoulder, then drew him close as if to confide in him. He spoke softly.
"I have a concern greater than my well being. That is; are you doing well today?"
A big smile came across the young man's face. He always admired the way the old man expressed himself. He thought it was clever and unique. The Great Marce was his role model and he often made many feeble attempts to match the old man's style.
"Like any other, Master," he nodded with a smile, "Like any other".
The old man smiled back at Odius, then said with a playful point, "Your well being is of greater concern than mine".
"Certainly not, Master."
"Soon you will be the Great Marce, my time grows short very short."
"Speak nothing of this, Master!" He put as much authority into his voice as he dare without offending his master. "Your years could yet be plenty. No man can say his time of death... Not even the Great Marce!"
The old man replied with a familiar grin. The Great Marce often made this expression when he knew damn well he was right. Odius always took it as meaning, `you're wrong'.
"Master!" There was great concern in his voice. "This... this cannot be. I have much yet to learn." He shook his head and placed a hand on his chest. "I am not ready to take your place."
His master nodded.
Odius was not sure what he meant by the nod. Did it mean the Great Marce thought he was ready, or did it mean the Great Marce agreed with him? In either case, it seemed to affirm his fears that the old man would soon pass on.
Odius hung his head. "I... I am not ready to lose my friend."
"Nor I, young Odius. Nor I." After a deep, slow breath he continued. "Death is the price we must pay for living. And, to mourn the loss of a friend is the price we must pay for friendship. But remember young Odius, the bonds of true friendship cannot be broken, not by man, not by death, not even by the gods.
"I wish to say that I am most proud of you, Odius. You have been a good apprentice and will do honor to the title of Great Marce. You have also been a good friend. You are like a son to me."
"Thank you Master, your words are most kind."
"You need not thank me for the truth."
The Great Marce positioned the chair, then gestured to Odius. "Sit," he pointed to a passage on the scroll. "Read here".
Odius sat down, adjusted the chair, then began to read as his master had instructed.
"...I speak now of the demise of Joda, son of Lykos, who did on this day anger the great god Poseidon. Hardship befell Joda after his wealth was lost to many games of chance. He sorrowed in wine and ale, and wandered through the streets of Atlanta late into the night. In wandering among the public district, Joda happened across a monument honoring Poseidon. Poseidon's monument was a statue of orichalcum in the god's own likeness, whose pose was such that Poseidon held his trident in one hand raised to the heavens. Joda did, on that night, blame the great god Poseidon for his misfortune. In anger from drink he cursed the god's name and impaled a flask of wine unto the likeness of the god.
"Upon daybreak, the pose of that same monument was such that Poseidon held his trident horizontal across his chest, and the neck of Joda was held firm behind the trident's staff. Joda was unable to free himself and lingered for three weeks and two days until death took him. Men were unable to remove his body until his flesh rotted from his bones and his skull fell free from his corpse. That likeness of Poseidon still holds such a pose to this day..."
"Stop reading," his master interrupted. He strolled for several steps with his hands behind his back. "What lesson can this passage teach?"
Odius thought for a moment. He already had an answer ready but experience had taught him to think carefully before replying.
"Foremost, never curse the name of Poseidon while in a drunken stupor! ...But, as you have taught me, there is more to a lesson than the obvious, one only has to look."
"And what other lessons could you learn from this passage, if you truly wanted to look?"
Odius thought for a moment longer. "That the gods are powerful... and sometimes vain... and their justice is swift."
"Justice?" asked the Great Marce.
Odius gave an uncomfortable glance toward the heavens. In light of the passage on the scroll, he thought it would be best to word his response very carefully.
"As a mere mortal, and unknowing of the god's views, I would, with my humble wisdom, consider it vengeance for the punishment did not fit the crime."
"Do you see another lesson here?"
"No, Master. Is there another?"
"What of you, young Odius? If you were Poseidon, what punishment would you administer?"
Odius hated hypothetical questions because they could never be put to the test. He would never be Poseidon. After thinking for a moment he replied.
"Perhaps I would hold Joda for a day, then release him. Joda's crime was to disgrace Poseidon, therefore disgrace should be the punishment, not slow death."
"Hmm..." The Great Marce again strolled away from Odius with his hands behind his back. He thought for quite some time then turned toward Odius.
"Can you administer such a punishment?"
Odius smiled. "You seek to trap me with my own words, Master, just as you have so many times in the past. Therefore, I must word my answer carefully, and it would be lengthy."
The Great Marce smiled back. "You have learned well, Odius. I trick you as a teacher and a friend. When you become the Great Marce, others with less nobel motives will also try to trick you. You must always take care when wording a response. If it must be lengthy, then it must. I have already trapped you with your own words, but continue, I wish to hear your lengthy response."
"When you ask, can I administer such a punishment, you ask many things. The crystal indeed has the power to bend arms of a statue, or a tree, or most solid objects. Also, I do possess skills that could summon such powers from the crystal. With careful preparation, I could even arrange a victim of my choosing. It would be possible, therefore, to trap a man by such a means. But, to say I could administer such a punishment would be wrong, because the crystal must not be used for punishment. It is not allowed and would be very unwise."
"And I ask you again, Odius, is there another lesson to be learned from this passage?" He pointed to the scroll.
Odius was lost for an answer. He knew from past experience with lectures of this nature that a simple response of 'no' would be incorrect. Odius knew the Great Marce was leading up to something, but he had no idea what it could be. For lack of a better answer he replied with the obvious.
"Ah... Joda was a fool?"
The Great Marce looked a little disappointed with his answer. "If you had free use of the crystal for whatever desire, that is you could use it for vengeance with a free conscious, and someone disgraced you, what punishment would you administer?"
Odius responded immediately, and with confidence.
"None, Master. I would remember the deed, and at some time should that person ask favor the deed would weigh against him. But I would not take vengeance, it would only breed trouble and ill."
"Ah...," the great Marce held a finger up, "But you have stated earlier that if you were Poseidon you would have held Joda 'the fool' for a day. In each case you were disgraced, yet your punishments were markedly different. Why this disparity in your judgments, young Odius?"
"In the former I was speaking as a god, in the latter I was speaking as a man."
"Is it true that a Great Marce in command of the crystal is halfway between a man and a god?"
"It is, Master."
"Then, considering your sentence for disgrace against a god, and disgrace against a man, what would your sentence be for disgrace against a Great Marce? Would it be a proportional measure of, say, hold the perpetrator for the half part of a day?"
Odius realized the Great Marce had tricked him again. It was rough on the ego, but he knew that he would leave the experience with a little more of the master's wisdom. He decided to hazard an attempt at salvaging his reputation.
"No, Master. The laws written in the temple of Poseidon state justice must be balanced for all."
"Then, if you reconsidered your position, what would be your judgment for each case?"
"Judgement must be balanced Master. In reconsidering I must say the sentence for each, disgrace against a god, disgrace against a Great Marce, and disgrace against a man would be; take no vengeance, but remember the incident to weigh against future events."
The Great Marce smiled. With a nod he said, "I am pleased, young Odius. I ask you again, is there another lesson to be taught by this passage?"
"Yes, Master. Although the gods are powerful and often provide for us, they can sometimes be vane and unjust." Odius made another nervous glance toward the heavens. "Many men have cursed the gods without recourse, yet Joda was sentenced to slow death. Perhaps... Perhaps great power, which tends to corrupt men, also corrupts the gods from time to time. Perhaps in a weak moment, a god might be blinded by anger and use his great power unjustly."
"And...," The Great Marce waited for Odius to continue.
Odius thought for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders.
"You miss the most obvious lesson of all, young Odius."
Odius still looked confused. "Which is?"
The Great Marce bent close to Odius then gently poked him in the shoulder to punctuate each word which was spoken slowly and clearly:
"Never anger the gods."
Odius chuckled at himself for overlooking something so blatantly obvious. "I will remember that, Master," he nodded with a laugh, "until my dying day, I will remember that."
The Great Marce smiled then started for the doorway. "Come, Odius." He walked with a slow shuffle as he spoke. "A representative of the farming community has requested rain." He stopped to looked at Odius, "You must summon the rain today. I grow weary."
"Certainly, Master."
As they continued their walk, Odius became more deeply concerned about his master's health. His master seemed to be doing poorly today more so than usual. His steps were shorter than normal and breathing was clearly more difficult. Odius ignored the obvious and hoped he would soon recover.
When they reached the crystal chamber, the Great Marce had to pause to catch his breath. After a moment or two, he gestured toward the crystal in its gold mount.
"Proceed, Odius, the farmers are waiting for rain."
Odius approached the crystal. He briefly prepared himself mentally, then placed a hand on the crystal. He closed his eyes and started to concentrate.
"Remember," the Great Marce interrupted the young man's concentration, "do not overdo it, just a mild rain for, say, twenty minutes."
"Yes, Master."
Odius prepared himself again, only to be interrupted again.
"Careful where you drop it! Don't let any rain fall in the city, just the surrounding plains."
"Yes, Master, I'll be careful."
Odius once again prepared himself. He briefly peeked at his master to make sure the Great Marce had nothing more to add. Satisfied he could continue without interruption, he began to concentrate on the task at hand.
Within seconds, the crystal began to glow with a yellowish-green luster.

Clouds began to form in the skies just outside the walls of Atlantis. Within minutes, white to light gray clouds covered 77,000 square miles of farm land adjacent to the city. Despite an abrupt change in weather, the sun still shone brightly on Atlanta Odius hit the mark just as his master had instructed.
After one solitary bolt of lightning, a gentle summer rain began. It lasted for about twenty minutes, just long enough to saturate the ground and fill several hundred miles of irrigation canals. When it was over, the clouds quickly dispersed and a clean, fresh smell filled the morning air.

The weather that morning was not nearly as damp in the northwest territories of Atlas. This mountainous region was home to the most peculiar mountain in the world, Mount Atlas. Mount Atlas was the highest of any in Atlantis and certainly the most beautiful. It was peculiar because its incredibly steep upper slopes towered deep into a permanent cloud bank. Clouds always masked the peak of Mount Atlas, whatever the weather. Even on the fairest of days a small patch of clouds deliberately hid the mountain's summit. No one had ever seen the peak of Mount Atlas.
The lower slopes of Atlas fanned out to more hospitable terrain. These slopes were stocked with tall conifer forests and big game. Several streams trickled from these slopes and wove their way through miles of lofty foothills and hardwood forests.
The foothills of Atlas were a paradise in its own right. Small lakes and meadows interrupted a vast forest of diversified hardwoods. Streams from Atlas poured into numerous tiny lakes, the largest being only four or five hectares. Each little lake would fill, then overflow as the stream continued its journey through the foothills. Some lakes bordered meadows of grass and wildflowers while most surrendered their shores to the forest.
Many trees in that forest were extremely old, some were more than twenty feet wide at the base. Tall columns of ancient bark reached into a canopy one hundred feet high. Birds, monkeys, and squirrels shared the green treetops which cast cool shade to ferns and moss on the forest floor. The foothills were crawling with wildlife from small mice to larger animals like deer, unicorn, and bear. It was a pristine world far from any plow or saw.
Few people ever laid eyes on this remote paradise. It was far from any beaten path in a region where few traveled. There was, however, a sole resident who lived deep in that forest. Her name was Maia.
Maia, a young woman in her early twenties, has lived alone in the foothills since her early teens. She was a petite little woman; just over five foot and not quite a hundred pounds. She was also remarkably attractive and carried a figure that could make the gods jealous. Maia's simple beauty could not be matched anywhere, not even by the Atlas paradise.
Like most Atlanteans she had fair skin, blue eyes, and light brown hair which almost bordered blonde. Her waist-length hair was usually kept in one long braid and tied at the end with a strip of leather. She wore a pair of weathered sandals and a simple two piece linen garment. The bottom half remotely resembled a loin cloth, except the free ends were flared out somewhat and laced together at the sides to form a short skirt. The top half was little more than a strip of cloth four to five feet long and about a foot wide. The cloth was draped over the front of her from behind the neck, then tied just under the breasts by a thin strip of leather around the chest. The free ends of cloth hung down to the top of the skirt. It was comfortable, Maia often wore it when she did her chores in the forest.
The forest had been good to her and provided her with almost everything she needed. On rare occasions, she would gather surplus nuts or fruits and make a forty mile journey to the nearest village. There she would trade her stock for various goods that the forest could not provide. She enjoyed these trips to the village, it was a chance to see people.
The people of that village were often kind to her, yet, they kept their distance. Rumors and speculation gave her a reputation of being something unnatural, probably because she was somewhat different. Maia had little experience in socializing with others and was not sure what was or was not considered proper. She had a fear of saying or doing the wrong things and often did. Maia had spent too many years alone in the forest.
Maia would have preferred to live in a village, or even one of the larger cities like cities the villagers sometimes spoke of. She often fantasized about being a prominent lady in a big city, although she knew she could not possibly handle the role. Yet, in her fantasies she always said the proper things, made the proper decisions, and fit into society like a glove.
Maia lived in the forest by her own choice. She knew she would never see a city. Just going to the village was risky enough. Maia chose the forest because she had something to hide. For many years Maia had been plagued by a problem. It was an unspeakable problem that destroys a person from within. She could not bear to think of it or face it, much less display it to others. This paradise of Atlas was her safe haven; a place where she could pretend to hold some dignity. Should her nemesis surface without warning, no one would know, no one would hear, and no one would see.
All of that was far from her mind on this lovely summer morning. Maia was deep in the woods gathering mushrooms. The birds were singing, the monkeys had begun their morning chatter, and the fresh morning mist still hung in the air. She was happy and thought how great it was to be alive.
Occasionally she would whistle an answer to the song birds twittering in the canopy overhead. Most of the forest animals were familiar with her and comfortable with her presence. She did not fear any of the woodland creatures. Even the most fierce of all nature's beasts respected her and made no threatening advances. Maia gave many of them names as if they were pets. She was as much a part of the forest as the trees or wolves.
Maia walked through the sparse undergrowth that morning with a straw basket in her hands. She had already found a dozen large mushrooms and was looking for a particular tree that often sheltered a large patch of the little treasures. The tree was not easy to find since it was one of many in a vast stand. It was a large mahogany, which grew on a gradual hill more than a half mile from her simple log home.
Maia found the tree she was looking for. She crouched down on one knee then picked up a short stick to turn over a layer of mulch at the foot of the tree. It was then she noticed something disturbing; an uneasy change came over the forest.
An unearthly quiet settled around her. All the birds suddenly stopped singing all of them. The chatter of monkeys also stopped just as suddenly. The fresh morning mist now seemed to hang pungent and heavy. Maia felt a cold twinge ripple through her spine.
She slowly set down the stick, then her basket. A uneasy, frightened look dominated her face. She could feel her chest pounding with each heartbeat. Without making any sudden movements, she carefully lifted her eyes toward the canopy. All the monkeys sat still and motionless as they nervously sniffed the air they all seemed to be looking in the same direction. She felt flush and frightened. A panic began to boil inside her.
The animals sensed something wicked. Maia could sense it too, it was her nemesis! Once again it surfaced without warning like a snake in the garden. It was looking for her! She knew there was no escape from this menace or the terror it promised to bring.
Maia was on the edge of tears. She rose to her feet with painfully slow movements. Her eyes began to water and each shallow breath was taken with short sporadic jerks. Her face twisted in agony as if she was going to cry, but she dare not. Perhaps if she stood still...
It was too late. A hollow whistle, like that of a woodwind, filled the forest. Maia knew that it had found her. She broke into a dead run toward her house, screaming and crying. Her shrill screams of panic and pleas for mercy echoed through the treetops.
The monkeys cleared out and scattered across the canopy as she ran through the woods in tears. The monkeys were familiar with her, they knew this panic and they knew the filth that would soon charge down the wake of her screaming footsteps. They wanted no part of it.
Maia would put every ounce of life into that half mile sprint because she knew what would happen when it caught up with her. She didn't know exactly what this ungodly thing was, just what it wanted it sought pleasures of the flesh! She had been through this hundreds of times before, and each was just as terrifying as the first. The thought of it hardened her stride.
Her sides ached unbearably but she would not loosen her pace. She screamed until her throat was raw and dry. A tight pain ran through her legs but her blind panic would not let her back down. She still had a quarter mile to cover before reaching her house.
This menace always pushed her to panic before striking. It seemed to enjoy invoking fear and agony in her as much as possible. It was savage and indiscriminate. It would down her and have its way with her whenever or wherever it desired. It didn't care where she was or who she was with. In the past it often picked an opportunity to make a spectacle of her in public. This is why she moved to the foothills; to be spared the disgrace of prying eyes. The memory of those eyes still burned deep inside her.
Maia pushed her pace even harder when she came within sight of her home. She wanted desperately to make the threshold before this thing caught up with her. Her home was no sanctuary; the foul deed would be done, no question about it. The absolute best she could hope for was a little privacy. She wanted that privacy more than life itself. She could not bear the thought of any onlookers not even the woodland creatures.
Maia hit the door of her house with a thud. The door swung open to the inside and Maia tumbled to the floor in a pile. After a brief moment she curled to a fetal position. Her strength was completely spent and her stomach tightened.
This was the way it wanted her; exhausted and frightened. Her breathing was heavy and she found it difficult to swallow. Her head throbbed with each hammering beat of her heart. She could barely see. All her muscles ached with a wobbly tightness. Her whole body glistened with sweat and trembled from fear and exhaustion. She knew the worst was yet to come.
As she tried to get to her feet, she saw her nemesis at the doorway. It was a hideous dark shadow without form or soul. It constantly changed shape like a dusty night mist as it writhed and slithered. She could see right through it as if it were a thin haze of smoke, but smoke it was not. It had a mind and will of its own. It slunk close to the ground as it poured itself past the threshold. With it came the pungent musk of a goat, except many times stronger.
"No, Please," she begged, then she started to cry and back away.
A long, thin wisp of shadow reached from the dark form like a tentacle. It wrapped itself around her ankle, she could feel the cold pressure of its grip. At the same time, the rest of the bulk began to advance.
She screamed as she reached down to free herself from its hold. She knew from experience that it would be pointless. She tried to grab the dark tentacle but her hand only passed through it as if it were a shadow. Yet, she could see and feel a spiral depression around her ankle where the formless appendage held on. She struggled to no avail.
The shadowy tentacle began to extend as it advanced up her leg, leaving a cold depression on her sweat-soaked skin in its wake. When it reached the inside of her thigh, Maia began to swing and strike at the larger bulk of the beast, even though her hand would only pass through it. It let her struggle and scream as the tentacle advanced further and dug itself under her loin cloth. It wanted her to struggle, to work the last of her strength. It craved the fear and adrenaline that rippled through her body. The tentacle penetrated her then ripped her loin cloth as it began to swell and undulate.
Maia screamed and swung on dusty shadow again. Another smokey tentacle came out from the darkness and grabbed her arm. It advanced quickly up her arm to her neck. The tentacle wrapped itself around her neck, then stretched her body out flat. Within seconds the foul shadow poured all over her, tearing off her clothes in the process. It covered her entire body in an attempt to absorb every bit of fear, and feel the struggle of every little muscle.
Like an addict it craved for more and more terror. Periodically it would tighten its grip around her neck until she couldn't breathe. It lusted for every ounce of fear she felt and every little quiver as she struggled to breathe. Her terror mounted as she got closer and closer to passing out. This terror only drove the creature's desire it wanted more. When she was on the very verge of passing out, it would loosen its grip, let her catch a breath, then repeat the whole thing over, and over.

It would continue this nightmare of terror until it had its fill. Maia knew she would be locked in the monster's grip for at least the better part of an hour, sometimes it was the better part of a day.
After it was over the foggy shadow would leave the same way it came. Maia would gather her strength, then walk to a stream where she would bathe until well after dark. It took hours of scrubbing to get the pungent smell off her skin, but no amount of scrubbing would ever let her feel clean again. She would almost trade her life for that.
Maia had no idea what that foul creature was, or why it tormented her. She only knew the agony it brought and that she had no defense against it. For the time being it had its fill and would stay away for several days, maybe even several weeks. But sooner or later it would be back, like a snake in the garden. No one could stop it not even the gods.